


Malpractice

by ColetheWolf



Series: Smutty Drabbles [18]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dark!Derek, Derek is a defense attorney, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hypnosis, Hypnotism, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Mindfuck, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Stiles is a Prosecutor, Thought Projection, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 19:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf
Summary: Derek Hale is a defense attorney with a shady reputation and mind control abilities. Stiles Stilinski is a prosecutor at the same courthouse and ends up under the control of Derek for lewd purposes.





	Malpractice

**Author's Note:**

> This is a darker fic, so please read the warnings/tags. Derek has mind control powers and uses them to take control over Stiles' mind and body. This is also technically supposed to be a drabble, even though it's like 4,000+ words. Still, I reblog drabbles alongside gifs @halesparked.tumblr.com
> 
> Original post: https://halesparked.tumblr.com/post/180514662015/the-courthouse-was-where-law-and-fairness-was

The courthouse was where law and fairness was supposed to join together in holy matrimony. Unfortunately, that’s not the way things worked in Beacon Hills. Well….it worked sometimes, just not whenever the infamous criminal defense attorney, Derek Hale, was working over a courtroom. That’s just the way things worked….not that anybody was quite powerful enough to call out the shady workings behind Derek’s work.

See, Derek didn’t always know that he could push thoughts into the heads of people around him. A telepath, a master of hypnotic induction, a thought-pusher, and mind controller…they were all essentially the same thing. But the point of the matter is that Derek found out he could control people’s minds early on in his academic career—accidentally pushing his professors into giving him passing grades, pushing cashiers to casually forget to ask him to pay for what he bought, pushing strangers into giving up their valuables…etcetera.

Derek was powerful. Over the years, he had mastered his power, using it for things that some would consider to be reckless and downright disgraceful. And yet, Derek enjoyed having the world around him in the palm of his hand. It helped him get through the days. It helped him get through law school. It helped make him wealthy. It helped make him bigger than anything and anyone in the world.

As far as the Beacon Hills Courthouse was concerned, Derek Hale held the notorious reputation for never losing a single case in his entire history of practicing law. Of course, nobody knew that he was a mind-controller. And before anybody could even dare to draw up that kind of conclusion, Derek was ready and willing to scramble up somebody’s mind—erase memories and replace them with something else.

It was easy.

But for those that remained lucky enough to not fall directly into Derek’s immoral path of lobotomizing random strangers, Derek was known around the courthouse as a talented defense attorney with a knack for the law. He was known to be slick, cunning, sharp, well pieced together, and a force to be reckoned with. Nobody wanted to challenge him.

Now, Stiles Stilinski was a bright-eyed prosecutor, with a good score of court successes under his belt. He was incredibly skilled when it came to maneuvering himself around the courtroom—dancing his way through cross-examinations and winning over jury pools like he could do it in his sleep. He was a natural talent—a real attorney, with real skill, who believed in doing the right thing, fighting for justice, for peace, for liberty, the whole shebang.

And yes…Stiles had heard all the horror stories about the big bad wolf, Mister Derek Hale, the defense attorney from Hell. And no…Stiles wasn’t intimidated. He had come across tons of tricky combatants in his days as a prosecutor. He wasn’t going to let the spotless track record of some random attorney scare him away from doing his job.

But like so many others before his time, Stiles was completely unaware that Derek Hale wasn’t some normal, run of the mill, casual defense attorney. He was much more than that. He was a real…real threat. A supernatural entity with immense power…and no, some happy-go-lucky prosecutor with a promising future wasn’t anywhere close to a challenge for Derek.

Derek was going to have some fun.

+

The preliminary trial was about to begin. Stiles settled into his corner of the room, patiently waiting behind his podium, eyeballing the surrounding court guests, officials, and the judge—all of which were waiting for Derek’s arrival. Stiles couldn’t actually believe that the big, scary defense attorney with a perfect track record was nowhere to be found. But in Stiles’ mind, he considered it a good sign of being able to knock Derek down a peg.

And with only a few minutes left on the clock before the case would be called before the judge for review, Stiles just shook his head in disbelief. Tardiness was an insult to the law, an insult to the court, and an unforgivable insult to the presiding judge. He couldn’t wait to see how Derek was going to explain his unprofessional performance to the judge.

“I apologize.” Derek called out, sauntering into the courtroom to stand at his podium. “Forgive my tardiness, your honor. The traffic was a living nightmare.”

“The traffic was a living nightmare? Of course, it was.” The judged spoke slowly. “We can all understand the trouble. All is forgiven, Mr. Hale.”

Stiles eyed the “celebrity attorney” in bewilderment. What? He just blamed traffic for his tardiness and the judge let it fly without any sort of warning? Sure, Derek was as charming and as physically attractive as he had heard around the rumor mill. He was tall, dark, broody, and smooth—obviously light on his feet, confidently smug, and clearly beloved by the biased ass judge who didn’t even care that Derek strode into the courtroom late.

Unbelievable.

Derek settled behind his podium and rattled noisily through a stack of papers, to which nobody dared to shush him or comment on the amount of noise that he was making. Before he had even walked into the courtroom, he had infiltrated everybody minds—everybody  _except_  for the newest toy of the bunch—Mr. Stiles _‘do-gooder’_ Stilinski. Everybody else was tucked away in an inescapable haze of low brain function for the time being.

The gavel banged down atop the judge’s desk, capturing the room’s foggy attention. Derek watched as Stiles opened up with his introductory statement, carefully analyzing the man. There was so much enthusiasm and fire inside Stiles. Derek shadowed himself into Stiles’ mind for just a moment, taking a peek around.

“Your honor, this court joins together to discuss the case of Mr. Hale’s client—Jackson Whittemore—a man who has been charged with committing heinous crimes.” Stiles began passionately. “On January 28th, 2016, Mr. Whittemore drove to the grocery store what was located at the corner of his current home address, and as our witness’ testimony will explain—”

“—that we can’t take anything the prosecution’s witness says as being trustworthy, your honor.” Derek interrupts, leaving Stiles to quickly fumble over his words into silence. “I’ve brought the court Mr. Stilinski’s witness’ medical records, which you will find to be quite interesting, as they show that multiple psychiatrists have noted this witness is a compulsive liar.”

Derek held up a blank piece of paper, showing it to the surrounding courtroom audience, before walking it up to the judge’s bench. Clearly, it was a blank piece of paper, but it didn’t matter, because Derek quickly pierced into the judge’s mind to make him see medical records. In fact, he made everybody in the room see the medical records…except, for Stiles.

“Your honor—” Stiles exclaimed, slightly confused as to what kind of game Derek was playing.

“The evidence brought forth by the defense is damning, Mr. Stilinski.” The judge revealed. “And considering the fact that you have only brought us this one untrustworthy witness, there is no other choice but to motion forward for a trial.”

The judge banged the gavel down atop the wooden bench, setting forth a date for the official trial, before dismissing the room. Stiles remained behind his podium, utterly dumbfounded as he watched the entire room clear out. He was lost for words. What kind of foul joke was at play? That was just a plain, completely blank piece of paper. He felt as though he was losing his mind.

Though….not quite.

Stiles shook some clarity into his foggy brain and quickly cleaned up his podium, packing up his suitcase and grabbing his thermos of morning coffee before racing out of the empty room to interrogate Derek. He was determined to figure out what the hell was happening. The last thing that he was about to do was lay down and let Derek get away with whatever brand of malpractice he was playing around with.

“Could I borrow a moment of your time, Mr. Hale?” Stiles shouted smugly, running up to stand directly behind Derek’s imposing form.

Derek smirked to himself before even bothering to turn around. Now, it was time for him to have some fun with the fresh-faced prosecutor, who had no idea what the fuck was going on in the world around him. And after peaking into Stiles’ inner thoughts, his memories, his desires, his aspirations—Derek saw it all. He was able to tell that Stiles had never had a mind-reader poking around inside of his delicate, intelligent brain before….but he was practically destined to like it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stilinski.” Derek offered, turning around to face Stiles.

“Yeah, sure.” Stiles scoffed. “Do you mind telling me what kind of shit you’re trying to get away with here? Passing off a blank piece of paper as medical records to help your case? Getting the judge to play along with your blatant malpractice? I’ll have your fucking ass out of his city and rotting in some dank prison cell.”

“You’ve spilled your coffee.” Derek stated calmly. “You should be polite and apologize, and then clean up the mess that you’ve spilled all over my shoes, don’t you think?”

A feeling of fuzziness quickly clouded Stiles’ mind, momentarily freezing him in his train of thought. He stopped talking, staring deeply into the bright green of Derek’s eyes, whilst his brain twisted and bent to the gentle push of a demand from Derek’s hypnotic power. And then suddenly, Stiles’ hand unclasped its grip on his thermos of coffee, causing it to fall. It clattered loudly against the hallway’s marble flooring, splattering hot liquid across the sleek surface and onto Derek’s shoes.

“ _Jesus…Christ_.” Stiles mumbled foggily, instantaneously hit with a wave of apologetic concern. He set down his briefcase and then reached into his pocket, pulling out a clean handkerchief, before kneeling down before Derek’s coffee-splattered shoes. “I apologize, Mr. Hale. I don’t know what happened. I can be so clumsy sometimes.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much about it, Mr. Stilinski.” Derek cooed, watching Stiles work himself into a sweat as he furiously buffed and shined the dirty leather shoes. “You like being a bit submissive and you’re quite talented with your hands.” He spoke, implanting new characteristics into Stiles’ thoughts for later.

“I do.” Stiles mumbled. “I am.”

“My shoes look as good as new…now, what was it that you were saying again when you confronted me?” Derek questioned sarcastically. “Oh, you were praising my vigor, my confidence, and my enthusiasm during the preliminary.”

“Oh yeah. That was it.” Stiles agreed, standing up. He tucked his soiled handkerchief back into his pocket. “Your talent in the court is unlike anything that I’ve ever seen, Mr. Hale. I appreciated being able to bask in the shine of your brightness. And the way that you got my witness thrown out? It was absolutely genius on your part.”

Derek chuckled to himself, studying the blank look masked over Stiles’ hazel eyes and the look of controlled contentment across the young prosecutor’s face. He reached out towards Stiles’ face and pressed the pad of his thumb against the corner of the other man’s lips, wiping away the bead of drool that had accumulated there. It wasn’t too noticeable, but it was just a tiny effect of Derek’s influence.

“You seem like an enthusiastic young attorney.” Derek noted, thumbing across the plush stretch of Stiles’ bowed lips. The boy didn’t even appear to notice. “I would be delighted to watch you work through a mock-trial of what you’ll present during the real thing…in private, perhaps?”

“Anything…” Stiles responded loosely.

“Music to my ears.” Derek noted.

Derek took a moment to do some flip work inside of Stiles’ mind, blanketing most of what had just transpired—restoring Stiles back to his fired up personality. Although, Derek made sure not to erase anything, just hide things. Stiles would go on with the rest of his day like normal, thinking that he had stormed out of the courtroom and successfully ripped Derek a new one for the stunt he pulled with the piece of paper.

“—so fucking think about that, you insufferable asswipe!” Stiles sneered, snapping back to his original train of thought, before Derek mashed around with his mind.

+

A couple days later, Derek showed up on Stiles’ doorstep during the afternoon—completely unannounced. He knocked politely, waited, and smiled wickedly when Stiles actually opened up the door with a sour scowl spread across his face. Derek didn’t expect anything less, however. He was prepared.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Stiles interrogated. “And can you hurry up with whatever dumb explanation you’re about to give me? I’m supposed to be down at the courthouse in thirty minutes to meet with a client.”

“You were going to give me a performance—a mock trial.” Derek explained, watching as Stiles face dropped blank as the implanted memories came forward inside of Stiles’ mind.

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles acknowledged, gesturing for Derek to step inside. “Come inside, Derek.”

Derek stepped inside Stiles’ house, taking in the relaxed interior design of the comfortable bachelor pad. As he walked around the house and took in the sight of each room, Stiles followed behind like an expectant zombie—as if waiting for another thought and demand to be queued up inside of his thought processes. But really, Derek was just trying to find the perfect place to fool around.

Upon entering the dining room, Derek smirked to himself, glancing down to the sturdy wood of the large dining room table. There was more than enough space to do some things. Trouble was right around the corner, but so was pleasure and so was entertainment.  And seeing as how Stiles had thirty full minutes of nothing to do before having to get down to the courthouse, there was time.

Derek walked up to the side of the wooden table and looked down upon the set table decorations, pausing for a moment, and then deciding that Stiles would clean up the mess later anyways. He slammed down one of his arms onto the table and slid it across the surface—pushing off all of the decorative placements, silverware sets, plates, and the large vase of fresh flowers that had been centered in the middle of the table.

Despite the loud crash and the new mess that was piled up on the hardwood floors, Stiles didn’t react. He just stood expectantly at the entryway to the dining room—all dressed up in his expensive, professional suit and tie, which was of course used to make a good impression on clients and fellow acquaintances at the courthouse.

Derek hopped up onto the table and sat down comfortably. He scanned Stiles’ body up and down and then decided to actually get into the action. Derek clapped his hands, pulling Stiles’ undivided attention, and then told him that he was in the courtroom, before the judge and jury, making his case against the defendant.  

Stiles immediately jumped into action, straightening his posture and dipping into his calmer, sterner voice. He passionately began to plead his case against the defendant, actually arguing and making valid points to an invisible judge and jury, as he paced back and forth across the dining room—completely unaware that he was under the hypnotic spell of a rival attorney.

“Mr. Whittemore walked into that grocery store with the intent to harm others.” Stiles argued seriously, blankly staring past where Derek sat patiently and at a judge that wasn’t there. “Nobody would bring a gun into a grocery store, a place where families and innocent civilians are shopping, if they didn’t plan on doing something horrendous. This is an incredibly simple case, it’s cut and dry, there’s—”

“Good, keep going—” Derek interjected, watching as Stiles continued with his spiel, yet remained receptive to Derek’s commands. “—but come take my dick out of my pants and suck me off….just remember, you’re still making your case.”

Stiles continued to speak about the case, talking sternly to an imaginary jury about how there’s nothing accidental about shooting an innocent civilian in a grocery store, whilst following Derek’s exact command. He dropped to his knees, settling himself in-between Derek’s spread thighs, and unpacked the man’s thick cock—not missing a beat in his imaginary case.

“You have talented hands, remember?” Derek pushed, watching the way that Stiles wrapped his hands around Derek’s unfathomable thickness, doing his best to stroke the beast of a cock for all that it was worth.

“The proof is here in black and white, it’s everything that you need to make a decision—” Stiles enunciated mindlessly, unable and unwilling to break away from where he continued to softly stroke his hands up and down Derek’s throbbing cock.

“Take my cock into your mouth…” Derek ordered. “…don’t let the jury sway away from the point you’re trying to make.”

Stiles surged downward, eagerly swallowing down a large portion of Derek’s cock with relative ease. He found a rhythm quickly, bobbing up and down, and letting the immoral defense attorney thrust deep into his sensitive throat. The sounds of gags and choked coughs filled the space, whilst Stiles continued on his boring courtroom preaching every time that he pulled off of Derek’s length for a breath of fresh air.

Derek watched in amused silence. There was something so funny and ridiculously hot about how Stiles would gag and choke and pull up for air, mouth red and stretched and wet with spit and pre-cum, only to immediately breathlessly talk about morals, about the law, about justice, and putting away a dangerous threat to society. And Stiles didn’t even quit—he just kept going, running his mouth, fucking his mouth, even though his voice started to run hoarse and ragged.

Eventually, the whole courtroom soundbites from Stiles got old and boring and obnoxious, so Derek cut it off. He let the boy suck in cock in regular silence, taking in the not-so-innocent sounds of lewd slurps and coughs. Stiles made some pretty noises when he was all fucked out of control. The polished prosecutor was sloppy and desperate when a big cock got waved in front of his face.

Derek delighted in his power—instructing Stiles to do all kinds of things. He ordered Stiles to take his cock to the hilt and repeat the action again and again, laughing hysterically as he watched Stiles try to successfully do as he was told. Stiles managed for a while, taking Derek to the hilt. And Derek liked it. He watched as Stiles’ face turned bright red and splotchy with tears, with bulging veins on his face, and a deep bruised bulge in his throat whenever he had the cock in his mouth.

But then Stiles passed out and Derek rolled his eyes, lounging back atop the table until Stiles found his way back to consciousness. And to his surprise, as soon as Stiles woke up, he immediately went straight back to deepthroating Derek’s dick—slow and steady, yet perfectly executed. In fact, it seemed as though the boy was actually learning and adjusting and developing some kind of extra stamina and tolerance to the whole thing.

“Get sloppy.” Derek instructed, watching the thought infiltrate Stiles’ mind.

Derek pulled his phone out of his pocket and started to browse the internet for something more entertaining. He started to pay little attention to the change in Stiles’ blowjob performance style following the new order. Stiles was making all kinds of loud, lewd sounds, which were sure to upset the neighbors. But Stiles really did get sloppy—his strokes got wilder, he spat down on Derek’s thick cock, sucked passionately at Derek’s balls, and moaned like a straight up whore.

And then Derek realized that Stiles was about to be late for his appointment across town at the courthouse. Derek alerted Stiles to the news, watching panic spread across the boy’s messy face, even whilst he continued to work his mouth on and around Derek’s throbbing cock. But eventually, Derek instructed Stiles to freeze in place and stick out his tongue—before Derek finally unloaded across Stiles’ face.

Before Derek let Stiles go about the rest of his day, he once again reworked pieces of Stiles’ memory—making him actively ignore the memories of getting down on his knees to serve Derek like some common cocksucker. But Derek also instructed Stiles to leave the house and head down to the courthouse with the fresh load of cum splattered messily across his face and that he could only leave his car to walk inside the building once he cleaned his face up by scooping the spent load into his mouth and swallowing.

+

A few months later, the actual trial commenced.

“I hope you’re not expecting to pull any kind of shady ass ‘blank-paper’ tricks this time around.” Stiles snickered, stepping over to the prosecutor’s table, whilst glaring down Derek. “This is a new judge, buddy. He’s not on your payroll.”

Derek shrugged as if in agreement with Stiles’ words, unbothered by the nonthreatening nonsense that spewed from his mouth. He sure wasn’t talking all that shit when he was choking himself breathless on a fat cock. It almost made Derek laugh…but it was all good. The trial was only beginning.

The trial went on strong for the first fifty minutes and a simple recess with nothing out of the sorts. Derek didn’t push any thoughts or sway any of the revelations. He let things play out normally. But when it was time for Stiles to jump into his closing statements for the jury, Derek let loose with the outlandish “fun and games”, putting into motion something that he had thought up only a few minutes prior.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury and of this great court,” Stiles boldly started. “We’re heard the facts, we’ve seen the evidence, we’ve heard from the defendant himself regarding what went down on that cold January night—”

“Keep going on with the trial, think nothing out of ordinary about what you see.” Derek interjected, interrupting Stiles’ speech. “Now, Stiles—show the court the tight little ass of yours.”

Stiles continued to speak to the jury and the judge as he continued to deliver his closing statements, although this time, they weren’t invisible and none of this was happening in his dining room. And whilst Stiles, the jury, the judge, and the court audience continued on as if nothing was out of the norm, Stiles also started to follow Derek’s secondary direction.

He continued to speak, completely unconcerned. As far as Stiles could comprehend, everything was normal. But Stiles rounded the prosecutor’s table and unbuckled his belt, dropping his pants and boxers down to his ankles—kicking them off and out of the way. He bent over the solid wooden edge of the table and stuck his ass out to the judge, continuing to address the jury as he reached back with his hands and spread the plump globes of his ass open to reveal his tight entrance.

“Get on top of your prosecutor’s table and sit, lay back, spread your legs, and finger yourself.” Derek instructed calmly, still pretending to listen attentively to the tired, repetitive law bullshit that Stiles continued on about.

But Stiles followed in direction and hopped up onto the table and did as he was told. He started to finger himself, slowly at first, but faster when Derek demanded it so. All the while, he pled for the jury to keep their own families in mind and think about how awful they’d feel if somebody let the murderer of one of their loved ones walk free—mixed up with the occasional, involuntary moan that Stiles let slip when his fingers prodded against his prostate.

Derek rid himself of his own pants and unbuttoned his shirt, leaving the suit coat, leather shoes, and socks on his body. He walked across the room to where Stiles was unable to stop fingering himself atop the table and ordered everybody to continue on with the proceedings. All the while, Derek climbed up onto the prosecutor’s desk and laid himself out, instructing Stiles to climb on top of him and passionately begin to fuck himself on his cock for the audience.

“You’re going to be loud—unapologetically loud. You’re going to fuck yourself on my cock like it’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.”  Derek whispered into Stiles’ ear.

Stiles did as he was told.  

He rode the hell out of Derek like it was the last he was going to be able to do before keeling over dead. Stiles took every inch of Derek’s thick cock with hungry enthusiasm, desperate to fill his guts with the monstrous length and girth of the same hellish defense attorney that everybody had warned him about. Of course, that logic wasn’t accessible inside of Stiles’ mind. His mind was clouded and twisted and bent into something made of only pure lust and submissive desire.

Meanwhile, the standard court proceedings went on around Derek and his fucktoy as if nothing was out of sorts. Which, was basically the case, considering the fact that Derek had infiltrated the minds of everybody in the room, willing them all into believe that it was totally normal to watch the case’s prosecutor get railed by the defense attorney. None of them would honestly remember it anyways.

The jury was released to their chamber to cast their decision of ‘guilty’ or ‘not guilty’, whilst Stiles and Derek continued to perform uninterrupted for the rest of the court. Without anything to do but wait for the jury to reconvene, the entire court just watched with blank, emotionless expressions as Derek fucked up into Stiles’ ass.

Stiles bounced around, but eventually become unresponsive to Derek’s further demands. It was fatigue. Stiles’ mind had become so overloaded and cluttered with hidden-away memories and instructed demands, that his brain just stopped being able to function under Derek’s immediate control. Fortunately for Derek, Stiles’ mind was locked on the last command that he had been given—which had been to ride him and ride him and keep going until everything was done and over.

Stiles did as he was told—screaming and moaning out into the empty void, surrounded by his peers, strangers, his superiors, and jurors. And as the jurors returned to their box with the final verdict to the case that Stiles had wanted so badly to win, Derek and Stiles found their orgasms together in one collective shout of ecstasy.  

“Not guilty.” One of the jurors announced.

Stiles breathed heavily, sloppily pulling himself off of Derek’s cock—feeling the flood of hot cum rush out of his abused hole and sputter messily against the back of his thighs and legs. He chuckled to himself, stumbling forward to stand in the middle of the courtroom —before the judge, the jurors, and the defense attorney—utterly delirious, swaying around with an unbalanced stance.

“I won.” Stiles remarked breathlessly…and then collapsed down to the carpeted ground in a pool of Derek’s cum, half-naked and covered in a perverted mess…for a much needed nap.


End file.
